survivor
by turtleducklings
Summary: In the Hunger Games, there are no winners or losers. Only survivors.


survivor.

**peeta**

( _boy with the bread and a chipped-away heart_ )

disclaimer: i don't own.

* * *

My name is Peeta Mellark. I'm a victor of the 74th Hunger Games. Like that actually means anything.

The Capitol tries to make it seem like it's a good thing, making it to the end of the Games.

They call us victors, they say we won.

In reality, we just killed or outlasted twenty-two other kids.

In the Hunger Games, there are no winners or losers.

Only survivors.

The odds were completely against me. Just being from District 12 lessened my chances of winning. But then I was lucky enough to be paired with Katniss Everdeen.

I'd always had a soft spot for her. Ever since that first day of school, eleven years before. When my father pointed her out and informed me of his fondness for her mother.

I wondered why Mrs. Everdeen picked a coal miner over my dad. Who in their right mind would do that?

Then my dad told me: "Because when he sings… even the birds stop to listen."

I never believed in clichés like that. At least, I didn't use to. Until later that day, when Katniss volunteered to sing the Valley Song.

As soon as she opened her mouth and that first note rang out… every bird within earshot fell silent.

I remember being in awe of her. And it was then that I knew – I was head over heels in love with her. It was because of that voice.

But after her father's death, I never heard her sing again.

I remember the first day of school after he died. She had walked down the hall, right past me.

She looked… hollow, empty, grieved. I wished I could somehow comfort her, get her to smile.

I knew that was out of the question, though. We had never spoken before. It wasn't until a few months after that she even knew I existed.

I remember that night: dark, cold, windy, and rainy. I was busy in the kitchen, whisking fresh loaves of bread in and out of the ovens, kneading dough, washing dishes.

My mother was in the middle of forming a loaf of bread when we heard the noise. Someone was rifling through our trash bins.

She wiped her hands on her apron, grumbling something about "pesky Seam brats", and opened the back door.

I came up behind her, standing on my tiptoes, stretching my neck so I could see around my mother and into the backyard.

I was shocked to see… Katniss? She looked so small. The rain was causing her clothes to stick to her body, so there was nothing hiding how horribly skinny she was. Her lips were blue and her whole body was shaking with cold. Her hair stuck to her face in long, thin strands.

My mother began yelling, telling Katniss to move on and did Katniss want her to call the Peacekeepers and how sick she was of having those brats from the Seam pawing through her trash.

Katniss just stood there, shivering in silence. She carefully, soundlessly replaced the lid and backed away.

Her eyes locked with mine as she went, but only for a moment. Then they went back to staring warily at my mother.

My mother went back into the bakery, leaving the back door open. I watched Katniss as she made her way behind the pen that held our pigs and sat against the far side of our apple tree.

I could just make out her small shoulder sticking out from behind the tree. I stared at her for one more moment before going back inside. I needed to help her. She was on the verge of dying from starvation, and I wasn't going to stand by and watch.

I peered into the oven. Good, two loaves were ready to be taken out. I reached in with the wooden paddle we used for transferring things in and out of the ovens and slid it under the crisp brown loaves.

As I was drawing the paddle back out, I tipped it ever so slightly to the side, and both loaves fell into the fire. I gasped loudly, so my mother would hear.

She spun around, and upon seeing the ruined loaves, screamed with rage. She struck me across the face, her spatula connecting firmly with my eye. I refrained from shouting in pain.

She then proceeded to wrench the paddle from my hands and scooped out the blackened loaves of bread.

She threw them into my arms and shoved me out the door. I stumbled into the rain.

As I sloshed though the mud, she yelled, "Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! Why not? No one decent will buy burned bread!"

I began tearing off the burned parts and tossing them into the trough as my mother watched. Then the front bell rang, and she whisked away to go help the customer.

I looked over my shoulder once, to make sure she was gone, and without giving Katniss a glance, I threw the ruined bread to her.

Then I ran back to the kitchen, shutting the door firmly behind me.

The next day at school, I tried to ignore Katniss, but I could feel her watching me. Staring at my black eye. But when she wasn't looking, I stole a glance at her from across the school yard, as she was heading home with her little sister.

She looked up, and our eyes met for a moment before I broke eye contact, slightly embarrassed that she had caught me staring.

After that, I had no interaction with Katniss whatsoever until the day of the reaping for the 74th Hunger Games, when Katniss volunteered for her sister Primrose and my name was drawn.

I lied my way through those Games. I forced myself to cry as we got to the train platform to leave for the Capitol. To make myself look weak. I formed a fake alliance with the Careers. The only thing I didn't lie about was having a crush on Katniss.

Go figure that Katniss would believe that was a lie too, and she would go right along with it. Turns out she's a better actress than I thought.

Now that I'm back home, I feel more alone than ever. I live in this big house by myself, and I only go back to the bakery every so often. I don't even go to school anymore.

Being a victor isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sure, it leaves you rich, and it leaves you famous, but that's not all it leaves you.

It leaves you nightmares. Lots of 'em. It leaves you guilty. It leaves you broken. And it leaves you alone.

Because that's all I am now. At least Katniss has her family, and Gale.

Me, my family doesn't care about me. They didn't even think I was going to make it back. I don't really have friends. No one cared whether I would win or not.

The only reason I'm still alive is because of Katniss, and things haven't been quite right between us since she told me that everything in the arena was all just an act.

One of the main reasons I wish that neither I nor Katniss went to the Hunger Games is so that things could have stayed the way they were.

Stealing glances at each other every so often. And wondering. Wondering why I helped her, why she accepted my help.

But that's not the reality. The reality is that things will never be that way again. But we'll make it. This is nothing compared to what we've been through.

Because Katniss and I are the victors of the 74th Hunger Games.

We're the survivors.


End file.
